“Why, it is but reasonable to think so; and
my daughter shall not marry any one with less position
or fortune than herself.”

“As to position, father,” continued the
boy, “General Bezan wears orders that you would
give half your fortune to possess!”

“I forgot that.”

“And has already carved a name for himself in
Spanish history,” said Ruez.

“True.”

“Then I see not how you can complain of him
on the score of position.”

“No; but he’s poor, and I have sworn that
no man, unless he brings as large a fortune as Isabella
will have in her own right, shall marry her.
How do I know but it may be the money, not Isabella,
that he wants?”

“Father!”

“Well, Ruez.”

“You are unjust towards the noble nature of
that man; there are few men like him in the queen’s
service, and it has not required long for her to discern
it.” As the boy spoke, he did so in a tone
and a manner that almost awed his father. At
times he could assume this mode, and when he did so,
it was because he felt what he uttered, and then it
never failed of its influence upon the listener.

“Still,” said Don Gonzales, somewhat subduedly,
“he who would wed my peerless child must bring
something besides title and honor. A fortune
as large as her own-nothing else. This I know
Lorenzo Bezan has not, and there’s an end of
his intimacy with your sister, and I must tell her
so this very evening.”

“As you will, father. You are her parent,
and can command her obedience; but I do not believe
you can control Isabella’s heart,” said
Ruez, earnestly.

“Boy, I do not like thee to talk to me thus.
Remember thy youth, and thy years. Thou art ever
putting me to my metal.”

“Father, do I not love thee and sister Isabella
above all else on earth?”

“Yes, yes, boy, I know it; thou dost love us
well; say no more.”

Ruez had broken the ice. He found that it was
time, however, to be silent now, and leaning back
thoughtfully in the volante, he neither spoke again,
nor seemed to observe anything external about him until
he once more entered the Plato and his father’s
noble mansion.